Or it coulda been like this
by J.A. Carlton
Summary: WeeChesters... three year old Sammy's life hangs on the razors edge at the very hands of the one person he's always trusted without reservation while ancient beings vie for possession of both of the boys' destinies.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - This fic started out being just a simple short that was going to be chucked in emails to a few specific folks... nothing major really... but thanks to Catbeist and Nevermore... (they're the ones who convinced me to post it... so if you like it thank them... if you don't... I bear that blame)... it's being posted... so... that said... when all is said and done the title will be more clear. It's only 3 parts so no worries about another long drawn out fic from sifi... not right now anyway. **

**Okay then... hope y'all like. **

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...Or It could been like this... - SN-fic. – part 1

by: sifi

--

Air locked in his throat as he startled awake, his eyes holding fast to the ceiling, his spine frozen in place. _Don't move... don't look... it's here... _but he couldn't help himself and felt his eyes move despite the certainty that whatever was there with them would hear the movement.

"_...just a dream love... t'sokay... just a bad dream... shhh now..." he could feel her smoothing his hair from his face, his pajama top steamy and stuck to his back. _

'_No mommy... he was here! He was big and mean and dark and he said things... he... I didn't hear them... but I did... in here!' he protested patting his chest where his heart lay. _

"_No my sweet boy... it was just a bad dream... remember what does mommy say?" she asked smelling faintly like chocolate chip cookies and the baby magic they squirted into Sammy's bath water. _

'_...there's angels watching us...' he rushed out then shook his head, '...but he... it... they can't stop it! They can't!...and it says things that hurt...' he could feel tears sting his eyes even now, as they had then. _

_Mary leaned back, her smile gentle and her expression wide open, "Can you tell me what it said?" she asked. _

_He could feel himself shake his head back and forth, he didn't want to. He didn't want to say words that he knew were going to hurt his mommy, and if he told her what the big dark said...well not so much said... but what it made him feel... then mommy might get scared... mommy might think he didn't want his baby brother and she might send him back to where he was before, then he'd be all alone and Dean wouldn't be able to make sure that big mean dark never hurt his little Sammy. Besides, what it said just made his head and heart hurt with confusion, after all, how could someone who wasn't supposed to be born, be born? _

"_...shhhh..." she soothed holding her little man against her chest with her lips pressing the damp corn silk of his sandy hair, "...t'sokay baby... t'soaky... the angels will look over us...all the scary things are going away for the night..." _

_He could feel her tucking the blankets around him, her lips warm and soft against his forehead while her finger stroked his cheek and he caught another waft of vanilla sandwiched between mommy and Sammy-smell. He sighed, his eyelids dropping as the sandman passed by and mommy kissed them closed. _

'_Turn on Scooby mommy... and Sammy's balloon...' he yawned rolling onto his side, his backside pressing against Mary's leg and hip while her hand lingered on him just until she was certain he'd gone back to sleep. _

"_I will love..." she whispered kissing him again and rose to fulfill her promise to her eldest. _

"Dean? What're you doing?" John asked trying to hold back a yawn. "Dean? Answer me..." he pressed stepping into the room where his oldest boy stood stonily above his 3 year old brother. He cocked his head to the side noting the blurb of pillow with the classic cars on the case, on the floor at Dean's side.

"Dean?!" he tried again, more sternly this time. _What the hell?_ and finally he turned on the light, just unnerved enough to risk waking his young fireball who'd inevitably wind up running riot through the apartment they were subletting. It would be long after the sun was up, and the local stations started their morning programming before Sam Winchester settled down again if he woke up now.

"Dean? What's wrong? Is Sammy okay?" he muttered shambling into the room, while adrenaline zipped through his systems and the Marine in him snapped-to smartly.

"Dean!" he barked grasping his oldest boy by the shoulders, pulling him away from Sam where his hand had covered the youngest Winchester's nose and mouth. "Oh geez, oh shit... Oh God!" he moaned watching Sam's chest rise sharply with a deep intake of breath before his color went from high pink back to normal. The mop headed toddler worked his mouth, blinked his eyes and was almost instantly back to sleep.

"What the hell did you think you were doing!?" John turned on his eldest, his voice a roar of fear he was pretty sure it had only ever made once before. "Dean!" he rounded, careful not to hurt his boy as he grabbed him by the shoulders and leaned forward to peer into his blank face.

"Dean?" he asked, his hand trembled when it came up to cup his sons' chin, "Talk to me dude..." _my God he's freaking sleepwalking! What the hell! I mean WHAT THE HELL! He's never done this before! Has he? Oh God has he? What if he's...?_ he felt himself starting to panic while he ran through a list of all the injuries and ailments his baby had ever had, wondering now if any of them could have come... _God no... _at the hands of his big boy.

_I'll be damned if you're staying in here tonight... I need some answers!_ he picked his seven year old up, feeling his still comparatively little body go limp as his breathing deepened and his arms draped over John's shoulders.

John paced for a little while, Dean in his arms, and when the energy of his fear began to burn itself out he sat in the recliner, Dean in his lap clutching his pillow to his chest, oblivious to the fact that he'd been only moments away from having killed his little brother.

--

John jerked back in the chair so hard he almost fell over. In the anteroom he saw his boys sitting on the floor, Sammy squealing and clapping, unabashedly delighted watching his big brother make a show for him with a couple of stuffed animals.

A grateful exhalation rolled out and he returned his focus to the man sitting at the desk before him, even as his ears strained behind him.

"I just don't understand it...he's always been... I mean ALWAYS... from the moment we put Sam into his arms, but this... and lately... well... it's confusing..." he muttered wondering now at the quiet behind him. He turned and looked again to find his youngest now with the two stuffed animals, making them bounce hand in hand over the landscape that was his oldest boy who lay on his stomach very intently poring over some kind of search game in a puzzle book.

"How so?" the man before him asked softly and waited, measuring John's reluctance to talk and weighing it against his obvious concern for the boys.

_How so?... I'll tell you 'how so'! It's like he's... like something's got him scared... just sometimes though... _he recalled a couple nights ago when he'd gone in to check on the boys and found Sam in Dean's bed, which wasn't unusual in and of itself, but to have found Dean curled on the floor across the room WAS unusual. John had chalked it up to Dean finally wanting to sleep alone, hoping maybe he was growing out of the need to know Sam was close by and safe. _Yeah but then the other day... _his brows furrowed, Dean at the cheap pressboard coffee table working through the newspaper bridge game in the comics section, Sam was coloring, he slid the book to Dean patting him on the arm to get his attention, and Dean had cringed. Only for a moment, but in retrospect John knew, _it WAS a hint of fear that I saw... what the HELL is going on? Is there something wrong with my boys? But it's just those tiny moments...look at them... they're FINE... NORMAL, just like they've always been..._

"Listen Mr. Winchester... John... let's put something on the table right now okay?" he suggested, something in his tone drawing John's attention back to him.

"Bobby wouldn't have sent you to me if he didn't think I could help... so let's just put this aside..." he removed his clerical collar and put it into his desk drawer, "...and talk like a couple of... nearly normal men okay?"

John chuckled, hanging his head and shaking it side to side, "Bobby said you were a little bit different..."

"You have NO idea..." Jim nodded sagely.

A short time later John stepped from the office to retrieve his youngest.

"Everything okay dad?" Dean asked looking up from the 'can you find it' game.

John smiled and ruffled his boys' hair, "Yeppers...how're you doin'? You hanging in okay?" he nodded.

Dean shrugged, "Yeah, fine... it's kinda nice here... the air conditioning works... why're you takin' Sammy? Was he too loud?"

"No, no... Pastor Jim just wants to meet you boys... I figured he should probably meet Sam before he crashes..."

Dean nodded, "Mmm kay," and returned to the pages before him as John entered the office and closed the door.

In another few minutes John, with Sam in his arms and a smile that made Dean's stomach do funny fluttery things, emerged and sat on the couch.

"Dean?" Jim smiled easily in the doorway.

The eldest Winchester was on his feet in a flash meeting the Pastors' eyes, his own were wide and open and there was a grin trying to crawl out onto his face. He'd liked this Pastor almost at the same instant that the older man smiled and ushered them in with a soft warm voice that felt like it would always be there, even though he only knew a Pastor was a kind of a priest, "Yes sir?" he looked at John who nodded, his arms wrapped around Sam who bounced playfully on his knee.

Jim extended his hand and smiled as Dean shook it heartily, "I'm Pastor Jim... I'm a friend of your Uncle Bobby's, he asked me to get to know you boys a bit..." he started, closing the door behind them, leaving John and Sam in the foyer.

--

For the next few days John kept a close eye on both of his boys. He moved the recliner across the living room so he could glance into their room any time he wanted and watch for any more sleepwalking incidents from his eldest. Jim seemed convinced that Dean was normal and healthy and that perhaps the event was, hopefully an isolated one. John wasn't so sure, but 72 hours of vigilance, aside from making him a little loopy, was working hard to set his mind at ease once more.

He leaned his head into the crook of the recliner, the sound of his boys playing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles lulling him to sleep where he dreamed of playing tug-o-war against some faceless darkness he couldn't identify, his boys, connected, Dean's hands holding tight around his little brother's neck while his face turned purple. He could hear Sammy gasping, coughing, each exhalation coming closer to taking him from John forever. He wanted to tell Dean to hold him by his feet not his head...

"Dean!" he barked himself awake, his eyes instantly seeking out his boys. He was on his feet in a flash as Dean pounded a red-faced Sammy on the back. The fear on his face made the older son wonder if he was doing something wrong as a grape flew out of Sam's mouth rolling to a stop just under Shredder's claw.

"What happened?!" John demanded, something in his eyes making Dean flush with shame.

"Sammy swallowed his grape wrong...Dad are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?" Dean asked as Sam climbed tearfully into John's arms, hiccoughs of fear catching in his throat.

"Sammy you okay?" John asked his baby who nodded, his tears already drying.

"No more grapes..." he shook his head then laid it on John's chest.

"No siree bub... no more grapes for you..." he chuckled holding his little one in one arm, and grasping his eldest with the other, "You did good Dean... good job son..." he squeezed them both tight.

"Dad what's goin' on?" Dean asked softly, the way his father had been looking, and more importantly, looking at HIM the last few days was making his skin crawl.

Sam stuck his thumb into his mouth, curled in John's arms and his eyes started to droop. John set him on the couch covering him with a light blanket then walked his first born into the kitchen area.

"Do you ever remember your dreams Dean?" he asked. This was one of the conversations he and Jim had talked about having with the boy. After they'd checked Sam over in Jim's office for bruises and signs of abuse John had breathed a misty eyed gasp of relief while he'd clutched the youngster to him, just rocking him back and forth until he was able to collect himself.

"Sometimes..." Dean nodded, "Dad what's goin on? You haven't slept, you're jumpy, and the way you look at me now... did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?" he asked.

"God no... I'm not mad at you Dean... but I am a little scared..."

"Why?"

"Let me ask you... do you remember ever waking up in the middle of doing something you don't remember starting to do? You know... like... getting a glass of milk or... making a midnight snack... or..." _trying to suffocate your little brother?_

Dean seemed to think on it and slowly nodded, "...sometimes when I gotta pee in the middle of the night I don't remember getting up... but I'm still in the bathroom...why?"

John chuckled and nodded cupping his sons' cheek, "... do you know what sleepwalking is?"

"Is it just like it sounds? Walking around while you're sleeping?" he asked.

John nodded, "A few nights ago... I woke up and you were sleepwalking... scared me silly Dean... I couldn't wake you up...course then they say you shouldn't wake up someone who's sleepwalking cause they'll go bahooties..."

"Bahooties?"

"Yeah...you know... nuts..." _like it might separate the soul from the body, and I'd lose my boy... I couldn't live with that... I can't lose any more... _

"Oh... did I do something funny?" Dean asked.

_Funny? No... definitely not funny..._ "No... just scared me a bit is all..."

"So that's why you've been watching me so much?"

"Yeah..." John nodded ruffling his hair.

"Oh... jeez dad why didn't you just say something? I thought you were mad at me or something... I thought I did something wrong... like one of those things you go hunting for..." Dean sighed, visibly relieved.

"No! God no!... Don't be silly..." he nearly choked but rested his hand on Dean's shoulder, "Listen I just want you to know... no matter what... you can always talk to me Dean... nightmares, problems at school, problems with anything at all... we can fix anything if we work together okay? You, me and Sammy... there's nothing we can't handle okay?"

Dean nodded smiling widely, "I know dad... we're a team... always have been..."

"That's right..." John nodded commanding the sting of tears to stand down.

Dean frowned and touched his father's haggard face, "You look tired dad... why don't you take a nap with Sammy? I'll be okay watching tv..."

Slowly John nodded, reaching over to press his lips to his son's hair, "That's a good idea son..." he nodded again taking Sam from his place on the couch and moving into the bedroom where he lay on his back, his baby on his chest sleeping so soundly his thumb had never moved from his mouth.

"Sleep good dad..." Dean wished softly swinging the door almost closed and returning to his cartoons.

--

Dean peered carefully around the curtain by the front door, moving slowly so as not to cause the slightest rustle of fabric lest it be someone they didn't know, or worse yet, some thing that might know them. John had explained that his new job might make certain people and, things mad at him, so they had to be very careful now.

Dean wasn't sure he understood entirely, but just like Sammy was his to take care of, daddy took care of them. Like a good C.O. there was nothing he did that he didn't weigh against the welfare of his boys.

Dean opened the door and smiled, "Hi Pastor Jim..." he fairly whispered.

"Hi Dean..." the older man grinned but noticed that the young boy was still blocking entry into the apartment.

"Dad's... kinda... occupied right now..." Dean said, the barest hint of regret in his voice. He wanted to let this man in, he wanted this man to be part of their family... there was something about him, something that was kinda golden and warm, like sunshine through tree leaves on the hottest summer day... just cool enough to be refreshing and just warm enough to remember it was summer.

Pastor Jim leaned forward, his mouth by the young man's ear, his short burst of whispering tickling John's son.

Dean's eyes grew wide and he opened the door admitting the family's new friend.

"Open sez me..." Dean quipped softly and smiled as Jim moved straight into the kitchen to stuff the huge brown paper bag in his arm into the refrigerator. "What's that?" Dean asked.

"THAT... is dinner... you wanna help me unload the grill?" Jim asked.

"Really?!" Dean's eyes lit up again.

"Sure thing..."

"Yeah! Kay... hold on... I gotta tell dad..." he grinned, dashing into the bedroom before Jim could suggest he tell John.

Jim followed Dean to the bedroom, "Hey John... Dean's gonna help me get the grill set up okay? We'll be between the car and the patio..."

"Mmmm" John groaned, "Dean make a list for the store..."

The eldest son looked between John and Jim holding back a smirk, "'Kay dad..." he tried not to laugh.

Sammy raised his head, blinking sleep out of his eyes while he pulled a slobber covered hand out of his mouth, "Dee?"

"Nuh uh runt... a barbeque's heavy stuff... you keep dad company 'kay?" Dean stepped up and kissed his little brother on the head.

"Mmm 'kay..." he rested his head again, his fist finding its way back into his mouth and was out once more.

"C'mon! I'll show you!" Dean could feel himself nearly bouncing like a human super ball as he took Jim's hand and after first checking to make sure he had his key, led him outside into the parking lot.

"Did you guys plan this? What'd you bring for dinner? Is there stuff we need? _Should_ I make a list?" he rocketed at the young Pastor then stopped in the parking lot, scanning it for a car that matched one he'd seen in the church lot.

Jim stopped when Dean did, he'd felt something with this boy the other day. Something strong and gleaming inside him that just made him practically hand his heart to the boy. If there really was something going on here, if this was the same young man John had seen holding his hand over his little brother's nose and mouth, there had to be something horribly amiss, and Jim was going to find out what it was.

"OOOh is that it?" Dean asked grabbing his hand and leading him toward the silver Astro Van sandwiched a yellow Volvo and brown Bonneville.

"Dang you're good!" Jim nodded impressed, especially since there were three other similar types of vehicles on the lot, "Let's go..." he grinned.

--

"DaaaaDY!" Sam half yelped, smacking his open palms against John's vibrating rib cage.

"Mmm uh?...wha?..." John snorted through the haze of exhausted sleep that had claimed him with savage finality after a hearty steak dinner with Pastor Jim.

"Daddy! Come ON!" he squealed tracing the line of his fathers arm down to his fingers. He grasped them as hard as he could and pulled.

"Sam?" John grunted waking up far more quickly now, "What is it? What's wrong?" he asked grasping his boy into his arm, the blurry sleep in his eyes following the line of Sam's hand.

"Dean..." he said simply, his lips bowing downward, quivering while tears magnified his eyes to anime proportions.

_Oh my god..._ "Sammy what happened?" John asked thumbing away a small line of blood from the corner of his baby's mouth.

"Deeean!... got a uh-oh..." he squirmed nearly out of John's grip but only settled when his dad finally moved into the bedroom.

Less than half a dozen steps later John flipped the light switch and scanned the room, his big boy was not readily visible but he swallowed his fear, ducking down to look under the beds before turning to the closet.

"Dean! Come on out now...it's okay... it's gonna be okay son..." he called softly, working to keep the fear from his voice, though with his tightening grip he was sure Sam sensed something.

He turned, his face a mask of confusion for his littlest one to see, "... in there?" he asked noting his boy pointing at the closet door, his mouth turned down, a bruise already visible on his sweet young face. He nodded, his lip quivering while his eyes bulged wide questioning and scared, though John didn't think it was fear for himself. John set his baby on the floor just outside the bedroom door, "Don't you dare move young man! Do you understand me!?" John ordered sternly.

Sucking both his lips into his mouth while tears fell freely, three year old Sam Winchester first nodded his head, then shook it. He didn't understand. That was his brother in there and even though he'd hit him for some reason, there was nowhere else it was more important for him to be than with his very own Dean.

"Just don't move unless I tell you to..." John amended his order.

Sam understood that much and nodded, his arms at his sides, his tiny chest hitching softly in the late hour while he watched daddy move to the closet door.

Time stretched with cold rubber slowness, brittle and threatening to snap at any second as John reached for the closet door, "Dean?" he called softly, his body coiled and ready to move in almost any direction. The air thickened throughout the room, tension rolling through the doorway into the living room as tangible as a Pacific Northwest fog was visible. Sweat trickled down his spine sending shivers back up to the hackles that stood on end.

His hand came to rest on the knob and in that last second he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and begged for his son to be alright, then he opened the door.

--

_Get UP JOHN! _he heard, "Mary?" he muttered shaking his head, making his eyes roll in different directions trying to clear the clouds from his vision.

"DadDY!" Sam cried from somewhere beyond his sight, "Daddy g'up daddy!... G'up!" then the voice of his youngest was silenced and nothing else mattered.

--

tbc.

Please R&R.

Thank You.

sifi


	2. Chapter 2

...or it coulda been like this... – part 2.

by: sifi

--

"Sammy! Dean!" he yelled fighting waves of nausea as he sought a way to get to his feet, to save his children.

Out of the corner of his eye, where for a moment he thought the world was off kilter inside of himself, he realized it was the closet door that lay half propped against Dean's bed, splintered in half as if something monstrous had burst from behind it. He blinked against the impossible. The sight of his first born as he opened the door, rising to his feet, darkness that turned his blood to ice twisting the boy's face while his eyes blazed the most unnatural color, and how he'd struck out with a strength no seven year old HUMAN boy could possess, sent a chill through John.

_Dear God tell me he's not evil... please tell me he's not evil... help me save him... please... I can't bear... I can't... God help my boys! _the tortured father inside the marine prayed while he lurched from the room, his head spinning, his own blood running into his eye as he reached for the phone.

His eyes stuck fast to the opened front door, the dark night conspiring to hide his boys from him while he remained tethered to the apartment until the damnable machine made it's damnable beeping sound! _Finally!_ he growled inside, "Jim, it's John... something's got Dean... and he's got Sammy... He's got Sammy outside..." he breathed deep, "... help me please..." then slammed the phone down and ran into the night, his ears straining to make up for what night would not let him see.

_How fast can he move with Sammy in tow? Especially if Sam's fighting him... WOULD Sam fight him? Yeah of course he would... but it's Dean... but it's NOT and Sam knows that... I saw the look on his face... _his gaze swept up and down the street while his belly told him his boys were moving in the opposite direction, toward the field behind the rear set of apartments. _When I find them... how do I stop him? How do I stop whatever that was without hurting my boys? Damnit!_ it dawned on him that he had absolutely no tools of his new trade on himself, then a slow smile twitched the corners of his mouth and his fingers clutched the pentacle he'd taken to wearing after discovering its protective potency.

_I gotta think like a marine here... I gotta be smart, it's the only way to get my boys back... what the HELL was that thing? How did something... What?... How can I keep them safe if something can get... God help my boys PLEASE! _he screamed inside but managed to steady his breathing while he caught sight of signs of a scuffle made by little feet.

_Musta been right about here when he called out last... Dean what did you do to him? IT's NOT Dean... he loves Sam... whatever it IS... it's NOT Dean, it's just using him..._ the tiniest whisper of doubt in the back of his brain added, _'I hope'_, before John squashed the thought.

--

His heart beat ticked off the seconds by halves. His eyes were fully adjusted to the dark, his senses keen, honed, returned to their former flint-like sharpness. When he veered from the right course it was his nose that brought him back in line. The scents drew him forward unerringly. The scent of disturbed earth, the scent of his boys, the scent of the very air and the way it moved in discordance with the way it was supposed to at the moment. He was focus made flesh.

Sounds of night passed into his ears, each one filtered, analyzed, deemed pertinent or not by duration, volume, rhythm, and most importantly, weight. A snap and a breath, each at precisely the right moment snapped his head up, his nose angling toward the origin of the sound to confirm what the filter of his mind told him. _This way..._ he moved willing himself silent, liquid, stealthy as the heart of night itself. Every muscle strained, every atom moved ONLY because he willed, or allowed it so, even the sweat that had soaked his clothes so thoroughly it was literally dripping from his pant legs, only did so because it was allowed.

Later when exhaustion stood beside him he would think briefly of a story he'd heard in boot camp, it went all the way back to the jungles of Vietnam, a squad on patrol ventured into abandoned enemy territory only to find they'd been suckered. Stuck in the heart of a hundred yards of tightly packed 'bouncing betty's', every member of the squad died a little as realization hit them. The point man pulled his bowie knife, piercing the ground at an angle in two to four inch intervals from right to left in front of him. When he'd spanned enough distance to cover the width of his body he moved the knife forward two inches and repeated the process until there was room for him to drop to his knees with the squad behind him, each man holding his position, frozen waiting either for a mine to play peekaboo and kill them all, or the next inch to be breeched.

All through the eternal hell that was that night for the squad of soldiers, every inch was bought and paid for with sweat, never knowing whether death would come from below, the result of a passionless device, or from any other direction around or above them at the hands of an enemy who would laugh at the sport they would make, shooting U.S. soldiers in a barrel.

When the squad emerged from the field some time the following day, each of them alive, their faith in God and the love of their point man wholly reaffirmed, the soldier on point, who'd led them meticulously through their darkest hour, had lost no less than twenty pounds through the night's ordeal, and when he was certain his squad was safe for at least another moment in this hostile and foreign land, his heart stopped, and his team mates cried.

John was fairly certain that even THIS wasn't THAT level of focus, but for him, any mistake could cost the lives of his children, without them, he would not be able to go on. Nothing and no one was more important than his boys.

In the heart of that focus, sounds penetrated from behind and from ahead to the left, a susurration that had not just rhythm but inflection young and hollow, not the thick bodied sound of something mature speaking. He could feel the speech but it was nothing he'd ever heard before, the very words may as well have been wind to him, but the father inside felt his lips curl back from his teeth, the pretense of evolution a quickly fading nightmare remembrance. _MINE! MY SONS! MY BOYS!... MINE! _so once again he was off chasing his senses.

--

_...have to know what I'm dealing with... have to know... Dean please..._ he wanted to charge into the tiny clearing but if whatever had control of his first born had the strength to splinter the closet door, he wasn't sure he was equipped to stop it without hurting his boy.

A flicker of light flashed against the upper branches of one of the trees before him. He turned, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the sight of his boys. Dean on his knees, his arms raised to the night sky in some kind of supplication while words John had never heard before flowed lightly from his lips. Sam lay on the ground at Dean's side, John had no way of knowing if his baby was alive or dead or teetering on the edge.

_Please be Jim... please be Jim... not someone else... please..._ he crawled silently backwards until it was safe to rise to his feet, then shot toward the source of the sweeping light beam.

Footfalls rustled urgently to his right, the light beam froze John Winchester in his tracks then flicked to the ground, setting him free quickly.

"John?" he whispered, "What happened?"

The distraught father, in many ways despite his military history, an inexperienced hunter, strove hard to control his breathing, "Dean... there's something inside him... it..." he shook his head, barely able to speak it lest the possibilities be made real, "...something's got my boys..."

"You found them?" Jim asked.

"Yeah... over there... just inside the copse of trees... looks like whatever it is... it's... it's gonna _kill_ my boy... I know it I can feel it Jim... we gotta stop him..." panic coated his voice as he turned toward the trees ready to race right into that tiny clearing and do whatever had to be done.

"Hold on..." Jim grasped his shoulder, "Take me there..."

"I'm gonna grab Dean, you get Sammy to safety... we can do this... there's two of us..." John breathed leading his new friend toward his boys.

At the edge of the small clearing, John and Jim crouched, for some reason John was surprised to see his eldest still on his knees with his arms still raised to the heavens, while that strange language continued pouring from him.

"Can you tell what he's saying?" John whispered almost imperceptibly.

Jim felt his face crinkle while he cocked his head to the side, straining to hear in the darkness, honing his own focus. Slowly he shook his head.

On the ground the youngest Winchester moved and moaned. In that instant John hadn't realized just how terrified he'd been that his little boy was already taken from him. His chest trembled as he drew breath while a pair of grateful drops squeezed out of his eyes.

He and Jim flattened themselves to the ground as Dean turned at the sound, stalked to the toddler, grasping him by the neck with one hand and held him aloft while the other hand rose to strike him.

"Dean... no..." Sam gasped, his hands holding tight to his big brothers forearm while his feet flailed uselessly in the air. "...stop... pl..se..."

A pleading, grinding, "Nnnuho..." burst out from behind the hate filled mask that covered his big brothers face.

Sam could feel Dean's arm shaking so kicked and flailed harder despite the sparkler feeling in his head, behind his eyes, "plu...le..se..." he gasped just about to give in to the dark that wanted him so badly when his body flew through the air, and the voice of his big brother, not that mean thing that was talking through him before cried out,

"Run Sammy! Run!..."

A flurry of activity held the adults captive.

"Get Sam... I'll get Dean..." Jim nodded watching the littlest Winchester stumble to his feet to start the long run back toward the apartment. John dashed back behind them while Jim moved more cautiously forward, his eyes fixed on the elder child who seemed to be fighting against himself. The voice of the child arguing, fighting something older, something that spoke a language unheard for millennia, it was almost as if Jim could see the boys' opponent despite the fact that it was within him.

_I hope to hell this works..._ he thought standing tall to enter the clearing, a flask in his hand.

"Dean!" he called.

The boy froze, his eyes shining with tears in the darkness, "Pastor Jim?" he smiled, his lips trembling as did the hand which held one of his fathers' knives.

Jim nodded taking a step forward, "Drop the knife Dean...let's go home..."

"I can't..." he sniffed barely pushing aside his sob, "... it won't let ..." his hand came up once more, the knife point wavering between the ground and the boy.

The young pastor felt his blood run cold though not for the first time in his life, as whatever it was that was fighting for this boy reared its head snarling words that had no meaning to him though he committed the shape of them to his mind in the hopes of a later translation.

"...no! Please... it wants me to... Sam... don't let me hurt him... PLEASE!" Dean cried one hand trying to plunge the knife into his own heart while the other fought against it. The boy was literally divided within himself.

Again the intruder's voice spoke venomously, driving the knifepoint closer to Dean's chest. _Now... he can't fight this alone..._ he thought driving forward, crossing the boy with holy water while Latin rolled with oft practiced ease from his tongue.

In the darkness a seven year old boy screamed while a hunters' knife tumbled from his fingers, his flesh burning though it didn't, his head on fire though it wasn't.

_God please..._ Jim thought over and over again as the words to expel a demon kept coming. He cringed inside, scratched raw from boys' screams, tears filmed then dripped from his eyes while he continued to chant, while he drew close to the boy whose place in the universe was being fought for in this very moment.

"No! No! John!" Jim grasped the agonized father, blocking him from his son.

"Please... Dean..." he met Jim's eyes through tear flooded eyes, "...my son..."

"Dad! Daddy please..." Dean cried on the ground, reaching for his father, his body writhing, his face twisted in pain, shredding John's heart in his chest. He had no way of knowing that though it may be the first time he'd hear his son beg, that it was not the last, and when it came again, in the fullness of time, even the creature that would have him captive in that moment would not be able to stop him from reaching his boy.

But for now, John Winchester allowed himself to be held back, "...get the knife..." Jim instructed returning to his chanting and holy water crossing while placing himself between the boy and the knife so John could get to it without being tempted.

Neither man knew how long Dean fought with whatever had its hold on him, neither man could do more than they were until his young fragile body lay still, quieted by exhaustion, giving them a window of opportunity to restrain him.

Jim pushed the apartment door open letting John, with Dean tied tightly in his arms enter first.

"Sammy!" John called as Jim zipped past him to slide the 1950's collapsible card table out of the kitchen.

"Put him on the floor..." Jim said sparing a glance at the tiny quaking figure standing in the bedroom doorway, the fingers of one hand in his mouth, the other hand holding tightly to a small pillow decorated with classic cars of the 50's, 60's and 70's, his eyes wide, tears spilling down his dirt streaked face. "Sammy stay there okay..." he urged grabbing a towel off the sink.

"God Jim... he's covered in blood..." John groaned leaning close, looking at the speckles of red on his boy's face and neck, his hair was matted with the stuff. "... Oh God..." he breathed pressing his hand over his mouth, his teeth sinking into the flesh there to keep himself from screaming. His liquid covered eyes flicked to his little one who sat squishing his big brothers' pillow to his chest in the doorway, his fist in his mouth, his eyes fixed on Dean, rocking and keening a faint tuneless hum.

"...looks like he's sweating it..." Jim muttered wiping Dean's forehead clean then showing John the towel.

Jim reached over, digging into his satchel for a couple canisters of salt, he handed one to John, "Trace the borders of the kitchen," he instructed then set about using his own to form a pentagram with Dean in its heart.

"If the Deacon's only knew..." John shook his head amazed by his new ally.

"If they saw my REAL tools of the trade...I'm pretty sure I'd need to find another job," Jim sighed sitting back on his heels taking a much needed break for a moment now that John's first son was as safe as he could get.

"Sam?... Sammy?" John frowned moving on his knees toward his baby. In the long minutes it took for them to place their guarding symbols around Dean, Sam hadn't moved from the doorway. He didn't even blink, just sat there rocking back and forth humming around his hand and hugging the classic car pillow, keeping some of it against his face.

_Oh God Sam... please... my sweet little boy... it's gonna be okay... probably smells like Dean..._ he thought briefly in response to his little one's need for the pillow, _I gotta see if he's okay..._ "Sam?" he scooted to his boy, pulling him into his arms while he sat cross legged on the floor. He tried to turn him away from Dean but to squirm until he could see him again was the baby's only intentional movement. "Sam... come on honey... come on, let me look at you baby... how's your uh oh's?" he asked easing Dean's pillow off his face, then angling his darkly bruised jaw and cheek upward so he could see his neck.

"Can you breathe okay?" John asked placing his ear first against his child's chest, then up against his neck, feeling his head nod. "Breathe in for me sweetheart..." Sam's chest and belly puffed up against his head, "...one more time..." he asked, and again, heard no signs of distress, "Uh thank God..." he sighed squeezing him tight, his own body now shaking with relief. _One relatively safe... one to go..._ he thought once more lifting up his boy's shirt to double check some of the scratches he'd noted after bringing him back to the apartment and retrieving the rope.

"What do we do now?" John asked, rocking Sam in his lap while Jim flipped through the pages of a journal that seemed nearly ready to burst apart. He wondered fleetingly if his own would ever get to that point.

"Whatever's inside him, it's strong... I mean REALLY strong... I've never encountered any kind of ..." he stopped, looked at Sam then back at John, "...d. e. m. o. n... that it didn't work on..."

"So... what do we do?" John asked watching his son's head toss back and forth on the kitchen floor as if he were stuck in some fevered dream. His breath raced in and out of his lungs, Jim's rosary and John's pentacle accenting the quick rise and fall of his chest.

Jim visibly pondered for a moment, "What we really need is to get him somewhere so if he starts screaming again no one's going to hear..."

John nodded, "Yeah last thing we need is some ass hole calling DCFS on me. I won't lose my boys Jim..." he squeezed Sam a little more tightly to him.

"Bobby's or the church?" Jim asked.

"Church is closer... you could get started there and I can..." he glanced down at his baby.

"Right..." Jim nodded.

"Sam? Sammy look at me..." John urged noting his boy's eyes flick to him for an instant before returning to his big brother who now seemed to be returning from his exhausted unconsciousness.

"Look at me... I'm gonna take you to see Uncle Bobby sweetheart... You're gonna stay with him..." John started, his words finally getting Sam's full attention. He looked steadily into John's eyes.

Sam's eyes grew wide, he shook his head, took his pruney fist out of his mouth and leaned back, the only thing he really understood, that made the least bit of sense to him was, _he's going to make Dean go 'way, bye bye! No more Dean?...NO!_

"No!... NO NO NO NO NO NO!" he shook his head screaming, pushing himself out of his daddy's arms.

"Sam..." John said as his little one tripped over his legs then did the unthinkable. Sam Winchester turned around with the alacrity of a viper and bit his father's hand. "Yeeoowch! SAM!" John barked though it was too late.

His attack, for want of a better word, took both John and Jim by surprise, neither man was ready for his speedy little legs to be able to carry him through the salt line that marked the tile boundary of the kitchen. Sam climbed onto his big brother's chest and lay down, returning his hand to his mouth while tiny diamonds fell sideways from his eyes.

John and Jim met eyes, each man acknowledging the same nearly miraculous happenstance. In his dash to his big brother Sam had let go of Dean's pillow, and literally gotten to him without breaking a single line of salt that protected the boy.

"I guess he's not going to Bobby's..." Jim chuckled leaning over to see if the tyke's little teeth had broken John's skin. Fortunately, they hadn't, but he could see the indentations of them, "Yeow..."

"Yeah..." John nodded grinning, proud of his baby despite his chagrin, "Little booger..."

The two very frightened men looked from the boys on the kitchen floor to each other and began to chuckle, which invariably led to an almost scary-long time of deep belly laughs. Neither of them immediately noticed Sam sit up on his big brother's chest with his head cocked to the side, studying them, so confused his hand was out of his mouth and slapping his brother absently on the forehead, trying to get his attention. This of course sent the two men into yet another fit of laughter, this bout resulting in them rolling on the floor head to head, clutching their stomachs.

"Dean?... daddy's scary..." Sam said softly, his hand still thumping lightly on Dean's forehead.

_Dean tries to suffocate him, busts his lip open, leaves him black and blue and sporting a necklace of fingerprint bruises, speaks in tongues not even Jim understands or recognizes, then throws him a solid... had to be about seven feet into a pile of sticks and stones... and _I'M_ the one who's scary... _

Sam scooted to the edge of his brother and slid down his side until his feet were on the floor, uncomfortably close to the salt line that made up the inner pentagon of the pentagram.

"NO!"

"NO!" Jim and John barked together, holding their hands out in the 'stop' gesture.

"Stay put Sam... hold on..." John pushed himself to his feet and took a step toward his boys.

To his astonishment Sam climbed back onto his brother, wrapped his arms around his neck shaking his head and said, "No... me'n Dean... we stay together..."

John hung his head, "You're right kiddo... we're a family, we all stay together... but that means we're going to Pastor Jim's church so we can help Dean so his uh oh goes away okay?"

Sam looked from his father to this nice new person that made both his daddy and his brother smile.

"We'll go together..." Jim nodded.

"'Kay..." Sam grinned, kneeling on Dean's chest now, his hands stroked over his red speckled face and he pushed up on one of Dean's fluttering eyelids, "...c'mon Dean... we go now... gonna fix your uh oh..." he nodded peering closely into his brothers eye.

"...Sam?..." he groaned.

Sam squealed and clapped then noticed his red covered hands and the darkening red smears on his brothers face, "Dean?..." he questioned then held his hands up toward John, "Daddy?"

"Dean?" John asked kneeling carefully between salt lines, taking his baby's hands into his then looking into his beseeching face, "We'll fix him up good as new Sam...I promise."

"Dad..." his eldest breathed, "...s'something inside..." he tried not to sob, "...it wants..." he looked at Sam, "Go by Jim runt...'kay?... love you Sammy..." his breath broke while saltwater tears washed away some of the blood-sweat on his face.

Sam leaned over, his face millimeters from Dean's, "Daddy gonna fix your uh oh... love you too..." he kissed his big brother then let his father put him on the far side of the line that seemed to mean so much to them. He stood for a moment, then grabbed Dean's pillow back into his embrace. Holding it tight to his chest, Sam traded the whole fist in his mouth for just the thumb so he could get a better grip on the one thing that was his connection to Dean. The corner dangled between his chubby little legs as he walked stiltedly around in circles, his distress obvious in the return of the tuneless hum despite his reassurances to his big brother.

"Sam you okay?" Pastor Jim crouched in front of him, his big warm hands around his tiny belly. Sam sniffed then shook his head watching as his father leaned over his big brother who said something into John's ear that made him blanch.

"You know we're gonna make Dean all better right?" he asked running his hand over the boy's silky hair.

Slowly Sam's liquid gaze moved from his brother who was being held and rocked by their dad, to Jim's.

"I want MY Dean..." he squeaked.

Jim couldn't help himself, all he'd seen of these boys, of this extraordinary, tight little family, and whatever it was he felt in the presence of these two children, there was something about them that drew out every protective instinct he had. His heart could break for all three of them, for what they'd lost and HOW they'd lost it. He felt a hot sting in the back of his throat at the desolate sound in the baby's plea and opened his arms. He was surprised just a little when Sam stepped into them, latching his arms around Jim's neck, squishing Dean's pillow between their bodies, then laid his head on Jim's shoulder with his thumb back in his mouth.

"We'll get him back Sam... we'll make him all better, I promise..." Jim choked holding Sam tight, stroking his back and feeling his own breath trembling in his chest.

He leaned down, grasped his bag and headed for the front door, "C'mon John, let's get these boys whole again huh?" he stroked Sam's back, "You can ride with me kiddo... kay?" he smiled sadly feeling Sam's head nod against his neck.

--

John kept his hands clasped tightly to the wheel of the impala, his head spinning not with the foreign language droning that poured out of his son's mouth from the back seat, no that had already become background noise, but with what Dean had haltingly whispered into his ear. In enough Winchester fashion to fill John's heart with hope that his first born would be able to win against the thing trying to use him, Dean had struggled to tell him what he'd been able to sense of the thing. His heart pounded hard in his throat while he drove, following Jim to his church where the added sanctity of holy ground might help with forcing this... parasite...out of his son. _Before we do anything I have to tell Jim... I don't know what difference it'll make... _he looked into the rear view mirror where Dean lay across the back seat, his face sheened and dripping with blood, his head resting against the door, eyes barely focusing on him in the mirror and his expression pleading as the words he spoke lost most of their menace yet remained terrifying for what it could all mean in the end.

"Do you think we should call Bobby?" John asked in the entryway of the church, holding his eldest in his arms, cradled close to his body while Jim held Sam.

Dean's head rolled back, his eyes straining to find Sam against the way John was holding him. As if he knew, Sam turned in Jim's arms reaching for Dean with everything he had nearly getting himself dropped in the process.

"Whoa there tiger..." Jim chuckled turning him around in his grip. John likewise shifted his grip so the children could see each other.

Sammy sniffed then patted Dean's cheek, "Gonna make you better...yeah..." he promised nodding, his eyes wide as the older sibling's eyes began to change, returning again to that unnatural green-gold with the vertical pupils he'd seen before, "Give me Dean back..." Sam sniffed and swiped at a red tear that fell from his big brothers' eye.

Jim and John watched the interaction carefully, neither man having much success at holding back their own tears, neither man knowing what if anything, was going to work to free John's son from whatever had him captive in his own body.

Sam's head cocked to the side as the thing inside his brother began to speak, this time it spoke directly to Sam who seemed to be trying very hard to understand what it was saying.

Jim dashed toward his office with Sam still in his arms, his little body pulling hard toward Dean while he shrieked an obvious protest, "Oh yeah... sorry..." Jim put him down, dashed to his office and returned seconds later with a pocket tape recorder. He picked Sam back up and held up the device recording whatever he could. The thing inside Dean spoke just a few seconds longer, but he hoped it would be enough when all was said and done.

"...nohn't listen... its truth is lies..." Dean gasped turning his tearful gaze from Sam back up to John's sweat soaked and very pink face. His arms were straining to hold his son for so long, "... dad... please..." he choked.

"Let's go..." John nodded shifting his grip so Dean's head was on his shoulder, right next to his. He leaned his head against his boy then pressed his forehead to Sam's, "We need you to do a very important job Sam... you have to stay up here and if anyone comes you have to cry, real loud, loud enough so Uncle Bobby can hear you okay?" John urged.

"Think you can do that kiddo?" Jim asked watching Sam's eyes grow wide before he nodded, on a whim he asked, "Sam... did you understand anything it said?"

Sam twisted looking from Jim to John then shook his head, "Uh uh... it don't like me... it thinks I not s'posed t'be here... Dean says 'YES He SHOULD!' but it said, 'No...', it said I make it scared..." he sniffed chewing on his lips to keep them from quivering, "But... Dean... he loves... Dean loves me..." he hiccoughed, "...he says 'YES!' and 'YES!' and... he..." Sam stopped for a second to draw another shuddering breath that came with another flow of tears, "...Dean says 'yes...'... and he knows..." he turned once more to look from Jim to John, both men stood stunned speechless. Sam shook his head crying harder now, "... make Dean better... please..." he pressed his face to Jim's shoulder, "Please?... I wanna stay... I don't wanna go..."

"Guh... what kind of thing IS this?" John gasped pressing his lips to his baby's forehead, "We're gonna fix this Sammy... make it so it's you and Dean together again okay? Just the way it's supposed to be...nobody's going away sweetheart... just the uh oh is going away..."

Sam sniffled, his mouth bowed hard down, "Promise?"

"I promise..." John nodded.

"John..." Jim said softly.

"I PROMISE you Sam!" John half barked over his shoulder, "You just stay here and make sure to cry real loud if someone comes in okay?"

"'kay daddy..." Sam nodded then turned to kiss his brother.

Dean's head twisted fast from John's shoulder, slamming hard enough against Sam's forehead that they all heard the clash of bones. The head-butt was accompanied by another cascade of hard sounding words in that perplexing tongue that fell venomously into the air.

"Ow..." Sam frowned, his mouth and chin quivering while he rubbed his head for a second then scowled and stuck his tongue out at the thing that used Dean to hurt him, "Meanie..."

Jim turned whirling Sam away from the possible danger, "Go John... I'll get him set up with a coloring book or something..." John turned down the stairs working hard to control the squirming bundle in his arms that was growing insanely strong.

"You okay kiddo?" Jim asked examining the rapidly reddening spot on his forehead.

Sam nodded.

"'Kay... let's get you a coloring book..." he smiled.

"I 'member where..." Sam offered rubbing his head with a frown while pointing to a small hutch against the wall.

Jim set the youngest Winchester on the floor, made sure the doors were bolted locked then bent and kissed the top of Sam's head, "We'll get you your brother back Sam... So help me God... we'll get him back..."

Nodding silently Sam climbed onto the couch, crawling to the corner, the coloring book in one hand, Dean's pillow and a grass green crayon in the other. At the corner he squished himself as tightly as he could, pulled the pillow to his chest, then the coloring book and crayon. His thumb went directly into his mouth and he started to rock.

--

tbc.

Please R&R.

Thanks.

sifi


	3. Chapter 3

... or it coulda been like this... – part 3

by: sifi

--

The sound of light things shattering or clattering was followed by a much more frightening sound of something very heavy moving very suddenly.

Jim leaped the last half dozen steps barely ducking out of the way of a throwing star coming frighteningly close to where he'd been a moment before. On his way to the storage shelf he began to chant.

"Jim! A little help!" John called then shouted in pain as something heavy thumped and crashed in the Pastor's 'private' office.

"Coming..." he called back making sure his flask was full of holy water. He pocketed another rosary, grabbed another coil of rope since he was fairly certain Dean's 'guest' had managed to finally break free of the other one, and made sure the key for his desk drawer was in his pocket. That was where he needed to get to, that's where the most ancient and most potent weapons he had in his arsenal were.

"GET OUT OF MY SON!" John roared, his arms clasped tightly around Dean, pinning them to his sides while the young boy bucked, writhed, kicked and undoubtedly was cursing him. "Hurry Jim..." he strained.

Jim made a hasty slip-knot in the rope then dropped it over Dean's shoulders. He was starting to cinch it tight when the being in the elder son doubled over, then jerked backwards, literally throwing both men, and the rope off. He stood before both men who now lay on the floor each sprawled stunned, John bleeding from several cuts and scratches, Jim from a small gash that came when his head impacted with the corner of a trunk.

The thing inside Dean cocked the boys' head then moved to the desk where he threw open a couple drawers, easily finding one of the things he wanted.

John could see Jim was having a hard time getting his sight straight after that blow to his head. He moved stealthily, his hand slowly getting to the knot Jim had twisted into the rope, while his son rifled through the Pastor's desk, all too quickly finding what he wanted. A knife.

He barked something in that language, the knife cart-wheeling over the desk to sink all the way through John's right hand. The pain hit a second later, a scream pounding at the back of his teeth to get out. It came for John, one hand grasping his hair, yanking his head backwards, the other grasped the knife then ripped it from his hand making the man dizzy with another wave of agony to add to his growing list. The thing inside his son stood over him, the knife edge pressed firm and definitely cutting against his throat. It spoke again, the sweat running down his boys' face in red droplets, it punctuated its point with an increase in pressure against the blade making it impossible for John to swallow for the moment certain that any motion would force that keen edge deeper into his skin. In a flash it was over. John registered the impact at the same time the lights went out inside of him.

The being inside Dean then turned its sights on Jim, speaking to him as well, before knocking him also into unconsciousness. While they were out, it made sure to bind them both tightly.

As he reached for the stairs he knew he didn't belong there, he knew if he didn't accomplish his mission soon that his 'invasion' would kill the child. _...better to lose an innocent to alter what is destined to come than to lose all the others who will suffer without cause... he will not be able to fight what's to come... _

"_He WILL, he will... I swear he will...! I'll help him! Whatever it is! We'll fight it together! It's NOT his fault! You can't take him from me!... he hasn't done anything wrong!" _

_He will murder the world!_

"_Wha...no... you're crazy!" _

Dean's hands clutched at the railing his head was spinning, his body verging on collapse, he wanted it to collapse, he wanted this thing OUT of him! If his body failed, fell or if he could just get enough control over it... but the one inside him was strong. It, well _he _thought, felt, his heart was certain that somehow Dean's baby brother, the last best present he ever got in his whole life could hurt their whole world. There were words like, _prophecy, _and _destiny,_ and _apocalypse_ that somehow all, to this creature at least, meant the end. But there was more inside this creature, things he didn't want to believe, things he didn't want to hear, or think could be true, some were words others had called him; _heretic, fanatic, zealot,_ to name a few and while Dean had heard the word 'fanatic' before he'd never known what it meant. Only now while he fought to exhaust his body to the point where it would be useless, while he screamed, raged, and cried inside himself at the thought of any harm coming to one of the two things in life that meant everything to him, let alone at his own hand, he began to understand the flavor of those words if not their literal meaning. But there were other words as well, words he knew so well that they comprised all the good things that kept him whole, _hope, faith,_ and most importantly, _love_ the keystone of life itself. These were the words, the feelings, the _everythings_ that something inside him knew would save the world, just like he would find a way to save his little brother, the child he'd been entrusted with. In effect HIS child.

"_Don't you hurt him! I'll tell him to run! So help me! I'll tell him to run so far so fast I'll never let you find him! You'll die in here with me! I don't want to die... can't you please just leave? Leave us alone? PLEASE... I don't want to die..." _Dean screamed and pleaded with the being inside, his rage and fear coming to a point within, finding a moment of power that almost took control from the ancient man-being.

He was almost at the landing, just a few more stairs to go until he could reach the door knob, until he could kill the toddler before it could be used to destroy the world he and his kin had made, before they'd been given one of their own.

_Before so many of them were... no... I must stop this... I failed to save so many of my own people... I will not fail to keep my oath..._

"_HOW CAN KILLING A CHILD GRANT REDEMPTION?!" _something, heavy, deep and mature challenged firmly from somewhere inside the elder brother.

_A sacrifice... a single sacrifice... that's all it is...one life lost... maybe two... surely..._ he countered, something in his demeanor shifting, something in that voice had unnerved him.

"_The children belong to me! Through all the ages of this world they are mine and you would DARE to bring harm to them?!" _Dean didn't quite know where this voice or these words were coming from but he was certain of one thing, he was exhausted and his hand had just turned the knob at the top of the stairs.

_It must be done...to save the world you have given them... to fulfill my vow... you know as well as I what will come..._

"Dean?" Sam startled out of his reverie as the basement door opened and his big brother crawled out of the doorway before falling face first onto the floor. Still squeezing the pillow, he put the coloring book and crayon on the couch then scooted toward the edge, turning onto his belly to slide down.

"...ammy...g'way... nuh..." Dean grunted while the two voices were arguing inside him. One seemed much older, wiser, and seemed to give him some kind of comfort with its presence. Even the one that wanted to 'sacrifice' his baby brother couldn't help but listen to it.

"Dean?" Sam asked again, inching forward, "...are you all better now?"

"No...Sam... g'way... please..." he grunted, his fingers digging into the nap of the rug, trying to pull himself forward.

Sam stood where he was, uncertain what to do, daddy and Jim weren't there_... they went where Dean come out of ... why they're not comin'?_ he wondered.

"Where's daddy?" he asked barely above a whisper, something was wrong. He wanted to run, his insides were telling him to run away, to hide better than he ever did before but he couldn't. Dean was sick. When HE was sick daddy and Dean stayed with him so he had to stay with his big brother.

He watched Dean's head bounce off the floor while his body rested, his chest heaving with every breath. Slowly he circled around to the side, eyes saucer wide, thumb in mouth and pillow dragging on the floor. He froze as Dean moved, his arms pushing against the floor, bringing him up to all fours, he was still heaving for breath, and red drips fell into the carpet from his soaking wet hair and the tip of his nose. Slowly he pushed himself back until he sat on his heels, the green-gold eyes with the funny pupils looked at him. Red tears spilled down his cheeks and Dean's mouth bowed trembling downward. Dean's hand reached out toward Sam quaking from shoulder to fingertip.

Sam took a step forward.

Dean's head shook, his mouth formed the word, "No..." but could not speak it.

Sam stepped backward.

"Sammy!" rolled roaring up from the stairwell drawing his attention away from his brother.

Hands grasped him, one around the chest, the other over his mouth, then snugged his body against Dean's chest. Slowly his feet left the ground while that strange rhythm whispered into his ear even as he screamed until he started to choke.

"No!... don't you touch him!...don't you touch my boys!" rolled up from downstairs, distance weakening the threat as Sam was carried into Jim's office, the door closed behind them, effectively sealing out the voice of the children's father.

At the pastor's desk, one arm swept away the clutter leaving Sam free to scream until he felt lips atop his head.

The desk was clear, the hand that had covered his mouth stroked his hair while his brother's lips moved against his head. When he quieted he could feel his brother rocking just a little.

"Dean...no...no no no Dean..." Sam shook his head. The feel of his big brother's body against his, so much like the way Dean held him at night sometimes when something scared him, or when Sam got scared and climbed into bed with him on his own, was a comfort that the littlest son couldn't deny. As he was set down onto the desk, Dean's hand pushing his head back until he lay flat something stilled Sam. "...no wanna go 'way bye bye..." His breath still hitched and trembled in his chest, tears still flowed from his eyes even though the ones he was looking into weren't Dean's and it seemed, as Dean's arm raised above his head, blood covered knife poised above the baby's chest he had to sniffle it one last time, "No Dean...please... love you..."

"_SAMMY! I love you too Sammy... please GOD HELP ME! DON'T take my brother away from me!" _he screamed inside himself.

_I have to... it must be done... _

"_No Anunnaki my son... listen to the children... hear them... they ARE hope. Let them go..." _that older, wiser voice soothed.

_No...I cannot... it cannot...can it?...Can it be so?_

"_It IS so...please..." _

Sam watched Dean's arm throw the knife across the office so it stuck wiggling in the wall. He got to his knees on the desk when his brother's hand fell away and his body fell out of sight.

"Dean?" he questioned sniffing away his tears and wiping his nose on his shirt. His brother was on his knees in the middle of the floor, his body almost ramrod straight, his mouth open toward the ceiling in a soundless scream and though it looked as if something was climbing out of his throat Sam couldn't see anything. As one thing seemed to leave Sam's older brother, another seemed to come up, moving from his feet upwards to the top of his head, fine bands of golden light traveled the course of his body until it seemed to glow just a tiny bit through all of him. The golden light brought a grin to Sam's face, then slowly faded away just before Dean fell over.

Sam screamed, "DEAN!"

He turned himself quickly onto his belly letting himself over the edge of the desk, his feet flailing mere inches from the floor. He let go landing on his feet, surprising himself for a split second before falling to his knees at his big brothers' side "Dean?" he slapped his cheek until jade green eyes met his.

"Sammy?" he grunted.

"Your uh-oh gone?" Sam asked trying to help him sit up.

"Think so..." Dean nodded looking around, "Where's dad?" he asked.

"Downstairs... you lef him downstairs..."

"Oh no...Sam... Sammy listen to me kay?" Dean groaned barely above a whisper, "You stay here...you gotta be the lookout while I get dad..." _What'd I do? what'd that THING do?... what happened?_ he wondered as events blurred together in a haze.

"Wanna go with you!" Sam protested.

"Please Sam... please...stay...I'll be back..." he pleaded.

Sam pouted, "Promise?"

"Yeah I promise..." he nodded stumbling toward the door.

Tears of grateful relief misted his eyes when he opened it to hear his father's voice yelling threats and curse words meeting him half way on the stairs.

"Dean!?" John shouted when his first born stumbled into the room. He examined his boy closely as he set to work on the ropes binding him.

In moments John was on his knees, his hands on his son's shoulders, his eyes delving deep, beseeching, searching for any signs of the being, any sign that this was NOT his boy in front of him.

"Dad..." Dean sighed smiling faintly into the darkness that took him, landing him in his father's arms.

"DaaaaaaDY!... DEAN!" Sam's voice shouted down the stairs followed by a series of soft 'floomps' and lots of little boy shuffling.

"We're okay Sam... we're okay," John laid his eldest on the floor so he could untie Jim.

When he turned back with Jim at his side Sam was sitting at Dean's head stuffing the classic car pillow under him, where it belonged. When he was satisfied with his brother's head being on the pillow 'enough', the littlest Winchester looked up at John and Jim, one chubby hand absently petting his exhausted big brother's red sweat soaked hair, the thumb of his other hand secure in his mouth, around it his lips were smiling and his little chest rose in a deep sigh.

--

"Dean? What's the matter dude?" John asked, though his heart wasn't taking off racing in a blind panic toward some cliff in his chest, it unnerved him to find his first born scrunched in the corner of his bed with his knees to his chest, his eyes never moving from where Sam slept just a few feet away.

Dean shook his head but scooted toward the foot of the bed, he didn't want to wake Sam if he could help it, so followed his dad out into the living room.

"What is it? What's wrong?" John asked watching as Dean left the door open just a crack, taking one last peek at his brother. He led John to the kitchen area, got himself a glass of water then sat at the table where his father was already sitting patiently, sipping from his beer.

"You said I could talk to you about anything right?" he asked.

"Yeah, of course..." John nodded.

"You won't laugh?" he asked.

"Not tonight..."

"I'm scared dad..." he looked intensely into his water glass.

"Of anything in particular?... or just in general?" John asked.

"Both?" Dean arched his eyebrow at his dad meeting his eyes, then breathed a heavy sigh, "Dad... I HURT SAM... I almost even killed him... a couple a times... what if... what if it's not done... what if it's like... waiting... what if it comes back... or comes out again, what if I do something that hurts my little brother... besides you... he's all I got... and he's all I got left of..." then he felt the tears come, he ducked his head but John would have none of it. He levered his son's face upward with a finger until their eyes met.

"He's all you have left of your mother..." John finished for him.

"Yeah..." he choked, "...and he still... he still trusts me dad... he still loves me... even after everything... and I know it's crazy but you know... you were right... you always said he was mine... and well he's ours, but he's MINE dad... my little brother... and I coulda..." he couldn't continue.

John shook his head feeling his own eyes mist up, after all, it's hard to watch someone you love cry and not want to join them. He cupped his boy's face in his hand, his thumb sweeping away at some of the tears as they fell while he smiled softly.

"Dean... YOU never hurt him, in the end YOU didn't let anything happen to Sam...In the end YOU protected him from something... well we're not sure what..." he admitted, "What DO you remember from the last couple nights?"

Dean shook his head, "Feelings... the thing that tried to... that wanted to... hurt Sam... it was scared of him... but then..." he shook his head again, his face screwing up in concentration, "... but...then there was something warm and golden... kinda like late afternoon sun in the field behind Uncle Bobby's house in the summer y'know?..." he frowned looking into his father's eyes, "... then it was okay... I kinda felt like it feels after throwing up a real lot... kinda empty and gurgly, but not just in the belly... kinda all over..." he sighed then hung his head again, "Sorry dad... that's all..."

"T'sokay son... that's real good in fact..." John nodded grateful that Dean's memory of the events of the last two days seemed to be waning quickly. He knew that for his son's to both survive in the world he'd discovered really DID exist, they'd have to be prepared, they'd have to know they could rely on each other through everything, that there wasn't anything they couldn't say to each other or to him. Their lives, their future would depend on truthful disclosure, _at least to each other and to me... they're going to learn about the things that go bump in the night far too soon as it is... Please God, give them a chance to be children for just a little while longer._ He prayed just a little.

"DEEEEAAAANNNN!" Sam howled from the bedroom, startling both of the elder Winchesters out of their chairs, "DEEAAAANNN!" he cried again as John let his big boy enter the room first, tossing the door open, flipping the light switch, his breath short in his chest, his eyes wide.

"Sam? What's wrong?" he asked looking at his little brother's bottom sticking out from underneath his bed. Sam squirmed backwards from under the old box spring, tears on his cheeks an odd contrast to the smile that blossomed on his mouth.

_...bruises... I did that... my hands did that..._ Dean gasped softly, his arms wrapping instinctively around Sam when he plowed into him clumsily.

"Where were you?!" he demanded half angry, half scared by his brother's absence.

"Just talkin' t'dad runt..." Dean stroked Sammy's hair. He felt his little brother step onto his feet and waddle walked him back toward the bed.

"Nuh uh... wanna sleep with you..." Sam said around his thumb while shaking his head.

Dean cast a glance over his shoulder at John who stood smiling in the doorway watching his littlest boy work healing magic on his eldest. He nodded watching Dean turn then lift Sam onto his bed.

"Did you have a bad dream?" he asked.

Sam shook his head.

"Well then what's the matter?"

"Nuthin..."

"Then why don't you wanna sleep in your own bed?" Dean asked.

"'Cause...wanna sleep with you... you're MY Dean..." Sam shrugged, half pouting half smiling and all big eyes on his brother.

"Sam aren't you scared of me?" Dean asked, the question choking John with it's sincerity and confusion.

"Uh uh..." Sam shook his head.

"But I hurt you Sammy... I hit you and stuff... I'm sorry y'know?..."

"I know...You din't... not you... I'n not scared of MY Dean..." Sam shook his head smiling with his hand on Dean's chest. The three year old Winchester sighed blowing a shank of hair out of his face as if it should be plain for everyone to see, he slapped his little palm over his brother's heart, "My Dean wants me... you said yes... and you love me... an' it din't hurt me cause you love me and you said so...see..." Sam looked up at the doorway, "Right daddy?" he asked for confirmation.

John took it as an invitation. He sat on the bed looking at his sons, his heart full with warmth and pride in them, in how openly they could still show their love for each other. How easy it was at that age, and he envied them.

"Right... now... both of you... scoot down," he lifted the blanket over them both as the phone began to ring. "Alright..." he kissed each of their foreheads, "...tuck each other in now..."

"We will dad..." Dean smiled drawing his brother into his embrace.

"Nite daddy..." Sam waved then stuck his thumb back into his mouth turning in Dean's arms then managing to smack him with a soggy digit as he adjusted himself.

"Eeew runt!...you're gonna drool all over my pillow..." Dean groaned.

"Will not..."

"Will too... listen... you gotta quit sucking your thumb... you've been a really good big-boy... so no more goobers all over everything okay?" Dean smirked hooking his pinky through Sam's.

"No goobers... rasinets..." Sam shook his head watching Dean swing their hands in the air, locked together by their little fingers.

_No that kind of goober... aww skip it..._ "Maybe tomorrow 'kay?"

John stood at the little phone stand, watching his sons through the crack in the door. He saw Sam's fist wrap into Dean's t-shirt, wiping his hand dry.

"... but he wouldn't say over the phone?" John asked softly watching his boys, watching Dean grinning, wiggling his finger at Sam who twitched and squealed as he pretended to go for a direct rib-tickle. Then Sam stuck his tongue out raspberrying his brother and sticking his own finger into his ear drawing a huge grin from Dean even as he cocked his head to the side laughing.

"... alright... after breakfast then?" John nodded knowing what was about to happen in the bedroom, knowing in just a few minutes there would be an all-out-tickle-war going on and he'd have to barge in, pretending to be harsh, then he'd have to join them for a little while. It was too tempting tonight NOT to join in the fun, but it was going to make for a long night.

"Alright Jim... see you then... and thanks... I think they're both gonna be okay... listen..." he held the phone up toward the door for a minute then brought it back to his ear, "... tickle fight... yeah... alright... see you then," he grinned then hung up.

John sat back in the recliner watching his boys for a while as he finished his beer, then as he'd known he'd have to, he leaped into the room grinning from ear to ear with a hearty, "WHAT're you up to!" before he dove to the edge of the bed, each hand and its knowing 'daddy' fingers finding just the right spots on their bellies, necks and between their ribs to get them squirming delightfully.

--

"John... good morning..." Jim greeted smiling openly, "How're the boys?"

"Good Jim... thanks..." John smiled, "They made me promise that you'll say hi before we head to the park."

Jim nodded motioning to another guest in his office, "John, this is Professor Ehren Hunter from the department of Antiquities at the museum, Professor Hunter, John Winchester."

"Pleased to meet you," John extended his hand to the unusual sight before him. This man stood a head shorter than he, his copious dark curls seemed to spring out in every possible direction, but what struck John was that though he was wearing a pair of brown corduroy pants and a t-shirt that seemed no less than three sizes too big for him, he was barefoot. And he had very hairy feet.

"Oh and you... and you... yep, definitely... you got the...? Well you found the? The...amulet right?" the professor shook his hand with a firm grasp, and a contagious open smile. John felt an immediate kinship with the man before him, despite his odd manner of dress.

"Right... well... actually my son Dean found it... he was taking his brother out to play yesterday morning and it was in an envelope with his name on it... but no indication of who left it..."

"Really?... that's...huh... well that's just a bit..." he leaned in looking from Jim to John with a bright smile on his face, "... odd don't you think?"

John smiled curiously, his fingers scratching his head through his hair, "Uh...yeah...I do... I didn't want him to get attached to something that might have a..."

"...dubious origin?" the professor finished for him, his lively brown eyes glinting under suggestively dancing eyebrows.

"Exactly..."

"Well that's good... more than you know... but good... but... you've nothing to worry about... it's brass... and I'm almost positive it's Balinese, but probably not... could be Celtic... the Celts worked with brass a lot... but the horns aren't quire right, nope nope they should be more stag-like for ... no, course not that it matters really when you consider the facts... the thing that's important to remember... is that it's OLD... I mean it's ANCIENT..."

"So it's probably stolen... and probably worth a huge amount of money..." John shook his head, _Dean's going to be disappointed... he really liked that thing. _

"Oh no... well I doubt it... I mean it's... brass... it's not... oh say _gold_ or ... but... and here's the thing... it's value is in what it _represents_ Mr. Winchester... It's a God... a _HORNED_ god... protector spirit..."

"Come again?" John's eyebrows furrowed between Jim and the professor who was proving to be a very lively fellow, moving around Jim's office checking things out, making an unusual sort of sense while rambling and reading the spines of books until his eyes popped open and he moved with a spring in his step to the closet door and the foam basketball net that hung over it.

"OOOooh is there a..." he asked turning toward Jim, his eyes wide with the spirit of play as Jim tossed the orange foam ball to him.

"Professor?" John questioned.

"Oh right..." he nodded tossing the ball through the hoop then clapping happily in response.

"Well... See I say it could be Balinese but I actually think it goes farther back than that... maybe even to... uhm... MORE ancient times..." he shot again watching the ball sink effortlessly through the net, "...maybe even a few thousand years before the Christ child was born... could be Zoroastrian... could be but probably not..." he dashed around the office, approaching the net from several different directions and shooting, netting the ball each time, "... could be...oh say... Akkadian, or even Babylonian, interesting place Babylon, one of the first Horned Gods came out of there... Enki was his name..." he looked from one man to the other noting their puzzled expressions and laughed lightly, "Yeah... he has an interesting history y'know... quite a busy guy. Anyway... thing all these cultures and their horned God's have in common..." he turned, "They all represent... well lots of things really... mostly fertility and rebirth... course that's _my_ focus of preference anyway..." he snickered wiggling his eyebrows at the men who chuckled in appreciation of the sentiment, "Anyway... all the rest is just... you know... crossing your t's and dotting your i's... but an amulet like that..." he stopped shooting then tossed the ball back to Jim before looking at both men again, "Yes it's protection... but... well... meh... just old cultural superstitions... nevermind..." he smiled reaching over the desk to pick up the amulet.

"What?" John asked, "Please..."

Professor Hunter spocked an eyebrow at the taller man before him, "Well... something like this... wouldn't be arbitrarily bestowed... there'd be meaning behind it... a connection ... but something big, something important would have had to have happened for an amulet like this to be given a child. Like a rite of passage... or something, you know... 'test of the soul' type thing..." he took John's hand, pretending to miss the look that shot between the hunters while he opened it and pressed the pendant into his palm.

"Why?" Jim asked.

"Gods like these? They're patrons to their champions... You ask me? Someone thinks your son is a very special boy Mr. Winchester," he smiled hugely at the stunned father.

"OOoh I've seen these!" he grinned dashing to Jim's shelf where he picked up the small plastic trinket and shook it then smiled happily watching the snow swirl around the small church in the background.

"He _is_ a very special boy professor...they _both_ are..."

"Course they are...they're your children..." the light spirited man closed John's hand around the amulet.

"So you think it's okay to give it to him then?"

"Without a doubt," he nodded, then looked from one man to the next, "Anything else gentlemen?...No... I'll be going then... have t's to cross and i's to dot don't you know..."

he exited the office stopping short at the sight of the two brothers leaning over their books, one coloring, the elder tracing his way out of a maze, he turned back to John and Jim one more time, closing the door briefly again with his hand still on the knob, "Y'know all through myth and lore, a God's champion is the foundation for all great deeds to be done...The foundation upon which the axis turns," he smiled then opened the door again, finding himself looking into the jade green eyes that were examining him brightly.

"Hullo..." he greeted.

"Hello..." Dean looked at him with his head cocked to the side, a different kind of smile spreading across his face with a slightly comforting feeling inside. _Funny little man..._ he thought.

"Hi..." Sam greeted without looking up from the coloring book where he was trying very hard NOT to color outside the lines.

"Bye now..." the man with the fuzzy pants and head full of wild curly hair smiled and waved as he left the church, the door closing softly behind him as he stepped into the morning sunshine.

"Bye..." Dean smiled back and returned the wave watching the man go.

"Bye..." Sam echoed.

"Dean... come in here please..." John called from inside the office.

Sam dropped his crayon, slipped his hand into Dean's and went with him into the office where John and Jim were both chuckling and smiling easily.

"... hey the guy's THE expert in the field... guess he's allowed to be a little eccentric..." Jim shrugged.

"A little..." John scoffed good naturedly as his boys entered the office.

"Hi Pastor Jim..." Dean grinned, hitching his thumb over his shoulder, "Who was that guy?"

"Hi Dean... good to see you ..." Jim greeted perching on his desk. Sam slid his hand from Dean's. He walked beaming to Jim and patted his leg until the Pastor picked him up and held him on his knee, "Hiya Sammy... how're you doing today?"

"Good! Dean'n me were playing in the coloring books...but he does puzzles... I like the colors..." Sam smiled leaning comfortably back into the man's chest, his thumb secure in his mouth for only a moment before he took it back out and made a fist around it. "Dean says I'n a big boy now... so I can't suck my thumb no more..." he shook his head with a little sigh but leaned back against the pastor with both of his hands secure under his arms.

"Well good for you Sam!" Jim smiled ruffing the mop of hair on the little boys' head.

Dean caught Jim's wink at him and smiled as John answered his question, "That was Professor Ehren Hunter from the museum..." then opened his hand to show Dean the pendant.

"Really!?" his eyes lit up with excitement.

"He said it wasn't from the museum... and he said that if it was given to you, it was for a very good reason..." John smiled tying the leather cord around his son's neck.

"What is it?" Dean asked holding it up so he could see the face.

"It's kind of a good luck charm... even the professor wasn't sure which God that represents, but he _was_ certain that it's the sign of a protector..." Jim paraphrased as John nodded.

"Cool!... does it mean that I can be a protector too?" he asked almost desperately.

"You already are..." John smiled nodding his head toward Sam as he knelt before his first born son, his hands on his shoulders, his smile huge and proud as he looked into the milky jade colored eyes Dean had gotten straight from his mother, "You always have been... and you always will be."

--

end.

---------

**A/N **

**Hope you liked, and if you did, gratitude is owed to both Catbeist and Nevermore, whose unflagging encouragement and prodding resulted in this actually being posted. This particular fic started out as an A/U to my own little A/U... There is another fic I wrote in which Dean was given the pendant, called After The Fire, but this one actually 'fits' my little SN verse, it does slightly skew the timeline... so... at Catbeist's suggestion I leave it up to the reader to decide which one each individual considers the 'stand alone', and which one should be considered the more appropriate one for the 'verse that sorta just keeps expanding... **

**No matter what though... Thank you for reading, reviewing, and for coming along on this journey. I truly hope the read has been half as well enjoyed as the writing of it was. **

**Oh yeah... and last but not least, it should be a given by now that I fully disclaim SN, the boys, John, Jim... the pendant... metallicar... everything I have to disclaim... **

**but what I hope is also a given, is the love that remains steadfast. **

**Thanks. **

**sifi. **


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